No Idea
by MidnightOfTheSoul
Summary: Little did he know, she was the best sex he'd never have. *Loosely inspired by THE promo. C/G, G/OC*


Title: No Idea

Pairing: C/G, G/OC

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Don't own LtM or its characters.

Spoilers: It's for the 'O' and 'V' promo. If you don't know what I'm talking about, then don't read.

Summary: Little did he know, she was the best sex he'd never have.

A/N: Okie, so Recoilandgrace totally wrote a fab post-promo fic "Practice". It made me giggle. So, I had to counteract the giggle with angst, because giggling is unallowed. I had no idea where I was going when I started this, and in the end, I'm still not sure, but I hope it gets enjoyed. No beta, all mistakes are mine.

.::.::.

Today was different.

When Gillian awoke this morning, something felt… off.

Perhaps it was the smooth, muscular expanse of skin lying next to her in bed, emanating heat. He had freckles on his shoulders and torso, just like her. But he also had scars, ones that her fingers absently ran along as she pondered the man beside her.

She was flat on her stomach, head tucked halfway beneath the pillow, naked as the day she was born. Her legs were tangled with his, while he slept on his side, facing her with his hand curved around the small of her back. She couldn't tell if it was possessive or not, but she couldn't deny that she liked the weight of his hand.

He began to stir, his eyes fluttering open slowly, then squinting shut at the thought of starting the day. When his eyes reopened, clear blue looked straight back at her, and the unconcealed contentment nearly took her breath away.

"Hi," he croaked, his hand moving slowly up her spine.

She ducked her head as chills spread along her skin, whispering, "Hi."

"Want to play hooky?" he asked as his hand moved back down slowly, the tips of his fingers drawing swirls along her pale skin. She muttered an incoherent response as she felt him pull her closer with one hand wrapped around her side. Bodies flush, she started kissing along his neck as his fingers played some unknown rhythm against her thigh, hooking it around his hip.

As she latched on to the angle of his jaw, she heard his phone vibrate on the bedside table. He tensed suddenly, then ignored it when she pushed him flat on his back and straddled his waist. His hands clenching her hips tightly, she bent down to trail kisses up his torso, giving two to each scar.

When her phone rang next, her leg was wrapped around his shoulder and she was trying to remember her name. His palm grazed the soft curve of her abdomen, then trailed up the side of her waist, dancing just beneath her breast.

Later, sucking in delicious air among the smell of sex and sweat, Gillian finally gave in and sat up to answer her phone when it rang for the third time. It was Heidi, and she was warning Foster that Cal was in a mood and looking for her.

"But it's only… eight," Gillian frowned as she felt David's tongue press against the base of her neck, trying not to shiver as his hands found purchase on her front. Heidi said something else, but Gillian had to blink hard and stifle a moan, completely negating whatever Heidi was saying. "Fine… I'll be there in a half hour."

"To the shower?" his voice rasped against her ear, the stubble of his chin rubbing against her bare shoulder.

"To the shower."

.::.::.

"Why's your hair wet?"

"Why are you covered in black paint?" Gillian felt her question was much more pertinent.

"I may or may not have made a couple abortion activists angry when they were attempting to tar and feather a doctors car. So why is your hair wet?"

"Hold on… tar and feather? YOU are covered in tar?" Gillian walked close to him and peered at the sticky black substance. "How'd you get back here? Did you walk?"

"Possibly, listen I have to take a shower and then we need to get back to the parenting center. Hope you still have your wedding ring."

"Oh, no. That was you and Torres working that case. I told you I wanted nothing to do with it."

"Tell me why your hair is wet."

"Because I just took a shower!"

"Why so late then? Busy night?" Cal smirked as he gathered a change of clothes and toiletries from his desk. He heard her sigh as she turned and walked to the door, then frowned when he heard her mumble, "Busy morning."

.::.::.

"I still don't see why we have to be a married couple," Gillian squirmed anxiously in the waiting room. She hated, _hated_ doing undercover work. There was nothing in her genetic makeup that made her the least bit predisposed for constant lying. Unless, of course, it was to protect someone else.

"Calm down," Cal replied as he casually drew her closer, hand wrapping around the small of her back. Gillian tried to ignore the way it felt when David did it earlier. "The only way we could get in here is to act like we're looking to adopt. This center does it all. If I didn't think you'd be able to handle it, I'd have waited for Torres to get back."

His words stung. She wanted to smack him, so badly. Instead, she settled for shrugging out of his grip and sliding away from him on the bench. Closing her eyes and biting her lip, she tried to remember the feeling of utter bliss and satisfaction she'd felt this morning, lying next to David. They sometimes had heated exchanges, but it was never personal and almost always involved make-up sex afterward.

Glancing at Cal through a slit in her eyes; she believed that no amount of make-up sex would get her through the next hour. _Pretending to be married… to Cal. Pretending to be in love… with Cal. Pretending to want a baby… with Cal_. It was a little more than she could take. Especially when he had the nerve to mock her sexual proclivities on the car ride over. _If only he really knew what she did in the shower that morning._

Sometimes… sometimes she wished she could show him just what he was missing out on, by assuming her to be prudish and boring. Essentially, that's what it came down to when he went out with rich blondes with perky breasts, or ex-wives with legs to the ceiling. Little did he know, she was the best sex he'd never have.

"Durden? Mr. and Mrs. Durden?"

Cal hopped up and grabbed her hand, whispering, "_Showtime_."

.::.::.

"Yes, Marla here, she's been great through it all, but my little swimmers… just can't cut it," Cal replied as he placed a loving hand on her thigh. She wanted to burn it off with the laser beams shooting from her eyes. Instead, she smiled at his weak joke and tried to be doting as she wrapped a smooth hand around the back of his neck, combing her fingers through his hair. She caught his uncertain glance at her actions, but ignored it, focusing on the woman before them.

The coordinator nodded at them both, smiling compassionately as she continued speaking. Fortunately, they were in another portion of the building, away from the protestors and yelling. The room itself was startlingly white, almost sterile in its brightness. Having sat in this metaphorical seat several times before, she hated Cal and his _excellent swimmers_ and Zoe and her fertility.

But Tyler and Marla? They were another story. At least he'd had the foresight to make it_ his fault_ as to why the Durdens couldn't get pregnant.

"Right Marla?" her _husband_ asked ever so lovingly. He was casting her a curious look, and she couldn't help but let a little emotion shine through. She felt his fingers clench her thigh a little tighter in response to the anger she expressed.

"Of course, _Tyler_," she replied smoothly, evenly. Glancing at the coordinator, with her white scrubs and her blood red fingernail polish, Gillian wanted to unleash a feral scream. Cal knew that she'd struggled to have children. But he had no idea, _none_, what she'd really gone through.

The nights spent holed up in a bathroom, towel shoved in her mouth as she cried, _another_ negative pregnancy test in her white knuckled hand. The hours spent at the fertility specialist. The thousands spent harvesting her eggs. The shame on Alec's face at collecting his sperm. The arguments. The sex that wasn't sexual. The adoption documents. The joy. The sleepless nights. The excruciating pain. The deadness inside.

Sitting in this chair, with a man who was _pretending to love her_, made her blood boil. She could feel beads of sweat trickling down her back as she tried to stifle a mirthless laugh. And he thought she couldn't handle it.

"Excited?" the coordinator asked at the nearly hysterical smile on Gillian's face.

"You have no idea," she replied, her voice hitching at the end. Cal moved his hand from her thigh to her shoulder and brought her closer to his side.

"We've wanted this for so long," Cal, or _Tyler_, offered. She couldn't ignore the sincerity in his voice, but knew once again that he was putting on a show, like always.

"I can tell," said the coordinator knowingly. "Two people, clearly in love as you two, will make excellent parents."

Gillian wasn't sure if the woman's words were supposed to be comforting, but she couldn't help but feel a sharp pain in her chest with every single breath she took. The coordinator stood with the paperwork and began piling it as she felt Cal's hand grasp her shoulder tightly. She was trying not to have a panic attack and all he was doing was beaming up at the coordinator, hoping Gillian wouldn't blow their cover.

"Mrs. Durden, where on earth did you find a man like him?" asked the coordinator as Cal's head bent forward, searching for Gillian's eyes. "I can't tell who's more excited at the moment, you or him."

Gillian turned to her with a smile plastered on her face, too afraid to speak. When she turned back to Cal, he was so close that she could see the flecks of green in his hazel eyes. He too was smiling, but his was real as he pulled her in for a kiss, his hand sliding up her shoulder as his fingers tangled in her hair. Unbidden, her hand clasped the back of his neck, her thumb rubbing his jaw as she opened her mouth to his kiss, forcing every bit of anger, despair, and frustration as she felt his tongue glide along hers.

She knew she was scaring him, with every passing second, she could feel the tension climbing in his shoulders and up his neck, but he held fast as she tilted her head the opposite direction, struggling to pour every emotion into that kiss. As her anger dissipated and reality took its place, she realized that _she was kissing her pretend husband who wanted to pretend adopt a baby with her. _

Biting his lip hard, she pulled away from him and slid back in her chair, unsurprised to find the coordinator absent. Wiping her lips and ignoring the frenzy of emotions stirring within, she brushed a shaky hand through her hair as _her fake husband_ continued to sit beside her, somewhat dazed.

"I had no idea," he whispered. "I thought… you were okay."

"You never asked."

"Would you have told me if I did?"

She exhaled, loud and sad. "No."

.::.::.

It was late. Cal had gotten the information he needed, closed his case and made his money. Gillian returned to the office in a blur of emotion and continued through the rest of the day working on the payroll. She was so outrageously angry with him, she could hardly stand it.

She leaned far back in her chair, deciding whether or not she wanted to go home or go straight to David's. He'd see that she was hurting though, and he wouldn't let it go, even if she stood before him stark naked wearing just her high heels and a beaded necklace. That's the problem with dating a shrink.

Cal drug her along today because he'd been jealous. He'd put two and two together when she was late and had wet hair. It wasn't his place, nor was it his right. She knew how he got when he was jealous and it was one of his worst attributes. Still, she never considered that he'd attempt to actually hurt her in such a way.

"I know what you're thinkin' and you can stop that right now," Cal called out from her doorway.

"Why? It's the truth," she snapped as she crossed her legs and sat straighter, every muscle clenched.

"I'm serious. I thought… it's been so long since everything, and you've had all these other cases. I just figured you'd be all right with that whole scenario."

There was truth in his words, but she could hear the slight dip and peak and knew that somewhere in there, he didn't even believe himself.

"You kissed me," she stated simply.

"You were about to break down right there. And besides, you kissed me back."

She disregarded that fact and continued on. "I'm seeing someone. You need to stop taking out your jealousy on me and get over it."

He scoffed, but only because she was right. "That wasn't why I brought you with me to that center."

She's too afraid to ask why he did. Either he'd tell her something she wasn't ready for or something she didn't want to hear. Both of which she couldn't handle at the moment. So, she gathered her purse and her files, stuffing them into her slim computer bag. Still blocking her exit, she brushed past Cal to get through the doorway. He grabbed her wrist, his warm fingers encircling her pale skin.

Turning, her gaze trailed from their joined hands up his arm, to his eyes. All she could read was sorrow and a deep sense of wistfulness. He pulled her hand up and with his other hand he twined his fingers with hers to reveal her palm. He pressed his lips against it then pulled away, placing her hand on his chest — just above his heart.

"That wasn't why."

.::.::.

When she arrived at home, the lights were off and it was mercifully quiet. No angry protesters, no oblivious adoption coordinators, no jealous co-workers. Just silence. She thought about climbing into bed fully dressed, but remembered that it still smelled of sex and David, and she didn't feel like doing laundry.

Face-planting onto her couch, she pulled the blanket off the back and halfheartedly covered herself, exhaling deeply into the pillow. Her purse on the floor beside her chimed, her phone undoubtedly having a text message. Reaching inside, she read the words on the screen and turned into her pillow, yelling into the dense fabric.

Glancing at the clock on the wall and ignoring her better instincts, she swiftly replied:

_Come over_.

.::.

FIN

.::.::.

A/N: The ending is vague for a reason. Read it as you will. Thanks for reading. Bonus points for those who spot my reference to fabulous cinematic achievement.


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